The Witch in the Woods: The Transmigration of Hazel-Anne Davis Chapter 235: The Victory Elm

The mountain slept beneath us as we moved.

We left no trail. No fire. No conversation to be carried off in the wind.

Yaozu stayed half a pace behind , silent as always, his steps matching mine even when the terrain sloped sharply down into Baiguang territory. The trees grew thinner the farther south we pushed, stripped bare by winter, their black branches brittle and reaching. Like fingers that had forgotten how to hold.

Shadow flanked my right. He didn’t make a sound either.

By the ti the sky started to pale with false dawn, we were already crossing the ridge that marked the old border—the one Baiguang declared theirs after a minor victory more than a decade ago. The sa battle that earned them the right to plant a sapling elm on that blood-soaked hill and carve a poem into stone beside it. A shrine to a day they never should have won.

A day they’d rewritten into legend.

I was here to set the record straight.

"There," Yaozu said, stopping behind .

We stood at the edge of a narrow rise. Beyond it, the world spilled open into low hills and dry grass. And at the center, unmistakable even from a distance, was the elm.

It had grown tall in the years since they’d planted it. Proud. Wrongfully so.

And below it stood the shrine stone—tilted slightly from weather and erosion, but still legible.

It was a good thing that I didn’t believe in Gods or ghosts, or else I might have been worried about what I was going to do next.

I began walking without a word, Yaozu following close behind .

The earth was hard beneath our boots, but not quite frozen yet. The northern lands had always been deadly in winter, but this wasn’t it yet. Most of the ti it took until the Lunar New Year before the ground really beca frozen. But because of that, their soldiers weren’t trained to fight in the dead of winter... nor were they trained for pain the way ours were.

They assud that everyone was like them, that no one would dare attack when there was a chance of snow.

But that was because they had never t before.

I didn’t need a army to make my point or to win a war.

They just didn’t seem to get that part of my myth in their heads.

The wind shifted behind us. Shadow stopped first.

Then Yaozu.

Then .

I didn’t need words. The silence told everything.

We were not alone.

I turned slowly.

There were five of them—Baiguang scouts, poorly disguised in traveler robes. They’d tried to follow quietly. They’d failed.

One stepped forward. His face was young, but already hardened. Soone had given him orders. I could see it in his clenched jaw, in the way he gripped the hilt of his blade before he spoke.

"You’re trespassing."

I didn’t answer.

He licked his lips. "This land belongs to Baiguang."

I tilted my head. "Then Baiguang should’ve guarded it better."

He took a half step back, clearly unprepared for to answer in perfect, unbroken dialect. His eyes flicked to the sword at my side. Then to Yaozu. Then to Shadow, who was growling low.

"We were told to escort you out."

"You are more than welco to try."

He hesitated. "There are more of us nearby."

"That’s fine. Then they’ll die too."

Yaozu didn’t even glance at . He reached into his sleeve, drew a thin blade, and waited.

The scout’s fingers twitched.

"You don’t have to do this," he said, voice tight.

"Neither do you," I replied.

And then I moved.

The space between us vanished in a blink. My palm caught his wrist before his sword cleared the sheath, twisted once, and drove the heel of my hand into his sternum.

He dropped.

The other four scattered like fools.

Yaozu dropped two before they turned fully, blades clean and efficient. I didn’t need to tell him not to kill them—he already knew. They weren’t here to fight. They were here to see. They were here to bear witness.

Which ant that I wanted soone to survive long enough to report to those who matter.

Shadow dragged the last one back by the leg. I waved him off. The boy scrambled away, limping, eyes wild with sothing beyond fear.

I turned back toward the elm.

The sun was rising now, low and gold. It painted the bark in soft light, made the red knots in its trunk look almost warm.

It had grown strong. Too strong.

Yaozu ca up beside . "Ready?"

I nodded once.

Then lifted my hand.

There was tal beneath the stone marker—old nails, once used to fasten the original shrine foundation, buried deep from sight. They rembered .

They answered.

The stone cracked like a scream. Split straight down the middle. The poem carved into its face—a lie about honor and rcy—shattered.

Yaozu stepped back.

Then I knelt and placed both palms on the cold soil beneath the elm.

It tried to resist.

Nature always does.

But the creature inside stirred. The fire I kept banked in the pit of my belly coiled forward.

"I am not going to burn your kingdom at the mont," I whispered to the tree. "I just need it to know what will happen if they keep touching my bottom line."

The fla answered.

It rolled up from the roots—silent, white-hot. Not orange. Not red. The kind of heat that doesn’t flicker.

The elm ignited from the inside out.

It didn’t burn like wood. It burned like judgnt. Like sothing that had waited too long.

The sll of sap and smoke filled the morning air. Birds fled. Animals scattered. And in the distance, I saw two more scouts break from hiding and run back toward the hills.

Good.

Let them tell their generals that the tree fell without rcy. That it didn’t weep, didn’t whisper. That there was no ssage left carved into the bark. Only fire. Only silence.

The sun finished rising. It backlit the ruins in golden clarity.

"I don’t want to be followed," I said quietly.

Yaozu looked at .

I kept watching the fire.

"I want to be feared."

He didn’t answer.

He didn’t need to.

The wind shifted again.

And sowhere far beyond the hills, I knew the first warning bells were ringing.